a passing fancy
by salty nap princess
Summary: Spontaneous is jumping on a train and following a girl he just met to Greece. Spontaneous is surrendering his heart. Spontaneous is comparing his strong, raging feelings to a battle – HarryDonna


**Notes 1:** This is based on the trailers. I haven't seen the movie because _somebody_ (lookin' at you **Jezmaiyah** ) watched it **without me** so I'm gonna have to kick her ass next week when I drag her to the movies. Gonna force her to pay so we can see it together **like we promised**!

 **Notes2:** I know Harry ends up gay in the first _Mamma Mia!_ movie. Believe me, my housemates and I were hollering when we saw Harry and his man but I've always liked the way he talks about Donna so here's a one-shot.

;;

 **a passing fancy**

;;

Waterloo, knowing my faith is to be with you.

– **ABBA** , _Waterloo_

;;

Harry Bright thinks, Donna Sheridan is something else. She's a special one, she is. She is tall and long-haired, strong and feisty, impossibly blonde, loving and caring.

She makes Harry smile easily, without even lifting a finger or batting an eye. She tells him jokes and wild stories; she tells him of her best friends, Tanya and Rosie; of the girls' Oxford graduation involving outfits made out of curtains, sewn on stars and feathered boas.

"There's an island – Kalokairi." Donna says with stars in her eyes as they're surrounded in a restaurant by tourists and French citizens, staff members and families. "People use to think that if you sailed on from there, you'd fall off the edge of the world."

"Oh?" Harry replies, chewing on his food.

"Hmm," Donna hums, stuffing a French fry into her mouth. "That sounds like the place for me."

And for a moment – _just a fleeting moment_ – Harry thinks he shouldn't be doing what he's doing. Just eating his lunch, listening.

They should be out there, on that island. Exploring. Falling off the face of the world, as Donna had said (and landing in each other's arms).

"Let's go then. Together. Let's do it." Harry utters without even thinking, mind racing with all these sudden open doors and choices. He thinks his life is worth more than just a boring bank career.

" _Harry_ ," She says, looking at him in the eyes. Donna leans forward, meeting him in the middle of the table, eyes locking with logic and reason. "We just met. Today."

"Yes, but –" Harry reasons, determined. Maybe she's declining because he's weird, because she saw him in a bathrobe, because he can barely speak French. But Harry didn't care. He wanted to say it. He wanted her to know because … "– when you know, you know."

Something hits him, making his realise this sudden chance. His expression changes and a grin spreads on his face.

"And when you fall, you fall." Then he stands as if he's been struck by lightning, quick on his feet. "And when you're utterly defeated by love, you're defeated!"

And the next thing he knows, he's standing up and declaring his heart on his sleeve. He's spinning her in a crowded restaurant, turning heads, making her laugh and comparing his love for her to a war.

"So how about it?" He asks once he's breathless but still star struck, British accent thick with curiosity and eagerness.

Donna can only smile at him in reply, her brown eyes stone. There was a fire within her soul.

;;

Harry knows he is _not_ an adventurer. He's not the least bit spontaneous of a person. He's far from it, he _wants_ to be rebellious, but he sticks to the rules very much. He knows it, his friends and family knows it. Heck, even _Donna_ knows it.

He thinks the biggest 'spontaneous' thing he's ever done is deciding to have an education at Paris. Which isn't all that much spontaneous because he had bought the ticket to France beforehand and packed his luggage carefully and made sure he had everything he needed from his passport to having the exact amount of money to spend.

 _But._

And that's a very big 'but', the moment he gets down on one knee and puts his heart on his sleeve in that Napoleon themed restaurant in front of Donna, the definition of 'spontaneous' suddenly came to him in one clear picture.

;;

His love made her dizzy, and it wasn't just from the dancing and spinning. No, it came from his heart, and it was a good type of dizzy.

Harry was just a skinny lad with a leather jacket coupled with dark hair and an infectious, easy going smile. He had turned up out of the blue but then stuck to her with his sweet and understanding nature. On the other hand, he didn't have a penny to his name; he was just here, enjoying his time, studying.

Donna probably wouldn't see him again – ever. She knew that much.

.

.

.

But, she fell anyways.

(though she tells herself she shouldn't)

;;

They spend that one day of the Summer of 1979 walking along the Seine, laughing in the rain and sitting on grass by the Eiffel Tower, until they end up in a hotel room because – well, why not? What's more romantic than Paris? Harry's a cuddler and Donna feels loved but also more than a little conflicted.

;;

He's late. Extremely late. **Too** late.

He missed the small window of opportunity opened to him, missed the ferry to the island and he missed his chance to be with her (for forevermore).

He doesn't shout after the ferry nor does he run. No. He just walks. He walks out towards the dock and laments on his fate. His feelings for her felt like war. Has he just lost?

Ten pounds and a Johnny Rotten t-shirt is all he could afford. He wonders if that guitar is enough for Donna to keep their short-lived memories alive. He signed it and everything, initialing it with the letters 'DS' and 'HB' for 'Donna Sheridan' and 'Harry Headbanger'.

Donna is the bravest, most special person he's ever met. He's heartbroken, yes, but he will say, he's lucky as it is to have even met a person like her. It's like he had said – "Promise to love you forevermore."

;;

But this is not the end, this is not him giving up because spontaneous is jumping on a train and following a girl he just met to Greece. Spontaneous is surrendering his heart. Spontaneous is comparing his strong, raging feelings to a battle.

.

.

.

(In which is a losing one but he had said he didn't mind the fall, didn't he? He's utterly defeated!)

;;

 **end**

;;

 **Notes 3:** Fun fact, my type are skinny lads like Harry with dark brown hair and bright eyes. Sad fact, I got Sam Carmichael-ed once except we did not fuck but he did have a fiancée which was – _super fun_ (sarcasm included)! But if he comes back like twenty years later, imma throw myself off that cliff in Greece.

– **10 August 2018**


End file.
